Family album

I didn’t know how my parents were raised. I did not talk much to them before they passed away. Our relationship was neither good nor bad, I guess.
While I was cleaning up their room one day, I found an old, shabby photo album at the bottom of a chest.
It was covered with dust, so I opened it carefully. Monochrome pictures of varied sizes packed every page. They seemed to be of my parents in their childhood and youth. Some photos came off the album with a crisp, crackling sound as I turned the pages. There were some thin papers at the back as well. They were folded in half. I opened them. They were copies of a family register, and revealed what my parents went through to be together.

A few days later, I decided to visit the places where they were born and where they grew up in. I brought along the album as well as the papers.